


Crack Babies

by rachel6141997



Series: Sherlock Holmes Has A Secret [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Fluff, Gen, Implied Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sweet Sherlock, bitter sweet, crack babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel6141997/pseuds/rachel6141997
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a secret.</p><p>or</p><p>Where does Sherlock go when it all becomes too much, and he wants nothing more than to take drugs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crack Babies

**Author's Note:**

> I may turn this into a longer story where other characters discover Sherlock's secret and react to it, but it depends on reviews. Or comments (PLEASE!) or kudos.
> 
> Teen rating for implied drug use and difficult subject matter (infants born w/ addiction)
> 
> Inspired by "The Lost Christmas Eve", album story by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
> 
> EDIT: I have decided to follow through with the above idea, making it part of a series, because I feel like this is better as a stand alone.

Sherlock Holmes has a secret.

Not a particularly scandalous secret, nor a horrifying one, although it would probably shock many of the people who thought they know him.

His secret is this: where he goes when it all becomes too much, when he supposedly is “researching”.

He goes to St. Bart’s- walking through the doors, like always. And then, instead of going down to the morgue, he goes up, up, up to the maternity ward.

The noise hits him like wave, but he ignores it, heading purposefully through the halls till he comes to one that’s darker, quieter, more lonely. He pushes open the door, and creeps in noiselessly.

The room is filled with the sound of crying.

 

All along the walls are incubators, and in each one is an infant, many premature, all squirming and weeping fitfully. Silently, he nods to the nurse on duty, picks up the nearest infant and holds her, rocking her back and forth, back and forth in the rocking chair he has long ago claimed as his own.

 

They are the “crack babies”. A crude name for a miserable element of society. They are the children of drug abusers, born with an addiction. They cannot be treated, because they are so young and frail that any kind of pain killer could end up killing them.

 

Sentiment. A chemical defect. And yet… somewhere, deep inside, he knows this one peculiar truth- that every human being deserved to be held at least once; when they died and when they were born. And because he has been there, been through the pain of withdrawal. He knows what it is like to tremble and moan and weep because the pain is so great. And he knows that in his case, it was his own fault he took the drugs and became addicted. But these babies, these tiny, frail babies- it wasn’t their fault at all.

And so Sherlock Holmes, consultant detective, scientist, highly functioning sociopath, and former druggie, rocks each child back and forth, humming operas and symphonies, until they fall asleep and their trembling ceases.

When the last child is asleep, as silently as he came, he leaves, head down as he escapes the maternity ward. When he exits St Bart’s, he doesn’t look back.

But behind him are eight infants, peacefully asleep.

And the hidden cache of drug paraphenelia at 221B Baker Street stays undisturbed for a little while longer.


End file.
